


Hourglass Smashed

by RotIrn



Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: AWAY WITH YOU, Canon up to end of Series 2, Don't look if you don't want spoilers, Explicit Language, F/F, I see you peeking at the tags, More tags to follow, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Seriously even tag spoilers maybe, Spoilers, Synth/Human Relationships, Synths (Human TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-08 15:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14697141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RotIrn/pseuds/RotIrn
Summary: S3 Ep 1 Spoilers. Seriously, don’t even look at the tags or anything. Just throw your phone/computer/smut viewer 5000 away until you are all caught up. S3 AU that diverges from canon early on and juggles around the timeline of some other stuff that i guess is likely to happen in episodes still to air.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is from a dream i had so it gets a bit weird and includes stuff i wouldn’t normally write about but sure, whatever, dream muse. It was also being written as a potential fix it fic for when S3 blew up Astrid. Thankfully they were not only nice enough to not murder her but to literally say aloud that she was going to live before i had some sort of breakdown. This story is therefore now just some general S3ish AU nonsense.

Her systems struggled to comprehend the sudden change in her position. One second, she was trying to figure out the feeling of dread she was experiencing. The next, she was trying to reorient herself and process the influx of information. A hooded figure running from the bar. Astrid calling out to her. A fucking _explosion_. The force of the blast had knocked her to the ground. Thankfully, her synthetic body was tough enough to have avoided any serious damage.

Dust and bits of debris fell from her as she started to sit up. _Astrid_. The human had been much closer to the blast. Crunching through the broken glass strewn over the street, she knelt next to young woman. She forced herself to move, hesitantly checking for a pulse and calling out her name, trying to rouse her. Taking in all the information, she assessed her injuries, responses and vital signs.

“You’re going to live.” She said it aloud, although it was as much for her own benefit as anything else. Losing her was not an option. Not now. Not after everything they had gone through. Not after they had decided to…

She waited as the woman tried to speak. Despite everything, her words clear. “Help them. Ziggy, the others…”

_Fine. Prioritise. She’s going to be okay. Triage. You’ll only be a few feet away._

Niska glanced at the doorman as she headed towards the building. Useless idiot that he was, he was also likely to survive. He was in shock, but conscious and did not appear to be bleeding heavily from any shrapnel wounds. There was no sign of the homeless man she had seen when she first arrived. Had he already been gone when she had come back out onto the street? _Yes_. She replayed her interaction with him, but nothing had seemed amiss at the time. Although it was odd he left so quickly. Unless her spare change had been the crucial last pennies he’d needed to start a new life. _Hmm. A lookout? A nobody?_ Both seemed equally as likely.

Stepping from the bright street into the dark shell of the club, she scanned around for survivors. There was blood and synth fluid everywhere. The overriding smell was still one of alcohol, now tainted with that of death. Bodies were strewn around the dancefloor but it was eerily quiet. No moaning or screaming. No cries for help. Only silence. There was nothing she could do. There were no survivors this close to the blast.

_Just a few seconds earlier and Astrid…_

As she continued looking, she spotted a strange piece of debris. Picking up the small blue item, she sniffed at it. It smelt strongly of explosives, too strong for just incidental contact. She pocketed it, glancing around once more. There was nothing else that stood out amongst the mess, so she decided to leave. Ambulance sirens were fast approaching. If there were any survivors further inside the club, they were better suited to help them. She stepped through the now very open plan front of the building, returning to Astrid. At least she could offer her some comfort until the ambulance arrived.

Kneeling next to the injured woman, she took her hand, checking for any changes in her condition.

“You have to go.”

“What? No-” Niska adamantly refused the suggestion before being interrupted. She had left her twice before and things had not gone well on either occasion. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.

“Your eyes... go, please.”

The odd statement confused her until she realised she had lost one of her contact lenses. If she was found trying to pose as human she’d be in serious trouble. This was not good.

Her internal panic was interrupted by another plea from Astrid, “Please go, i’m okay.”

Well, it was sort of true. Niska knew she would need to let the doctors do their work. Maybe it would be okay this time, the worst already over. Reluctantly, she gave Astrid’s hand a final squeeze, before hurrying away. She knew it was a bad idea, but couldn’t stop herself from casting a glance back over her shoulder. She would never be able to forget the image of her girlfriend lying in a street so devastated by violence. Or the feeling that she was making a terrible mistake. She vowed to track down the culprits, no matter how long it took.

An officer from one of the police cars started yelling at her to stop. She was too close to the scene, to obviously covered in debris. Resisting the urge to run and give herself away as synth, she veered off the main road and down an alleyway. Discarding her remaining contact lens amongst the filth of the street as she went. She took off her jacket, waiting for a suitable place to hide it. Being caught with a part from an explosive device used in a fatal bombing was guaranteed trouble. She needed to get rid of it, but wasn’t ready to give up on the potentially useful evidence.

Approaching yet another derelict building, she looked for an opportunity. Her diligence was soon rewarded. One of the security gratings fixed over the windows was loose. Making use of her strength, she pried it further from the wall. The window behind it was already smashed. It allowed her to drop the jacket into the darkness of the building in silence. Maybe, just maybe, it would be there when she got a chance to return. _If_ she got a chance to return.

She made it to the end of the street before a loud, male voice called out, “Hey! HEY! Stop!” As the man casually leaned against a large white transit van, he continued, “What are you playing at dollie? This is a long way from home for you. Shall we take you back and see about a reward, eh?”

The emergency services sirens were once again getting closer. She had to make a decision. Take her chances with an asshole synth junker or the police?

 _Fuck it_.

The unkempt man seemed taken aback when she marched forward and opened the van doors. Even more so when she climbed in alongside it’s existing synth occupants. Some were already powered down, others were battered and terrified looking. She sat down at the back of the van, and ignored them all. The human huffed out a surprised breath, shrugged, then slammed the doors shut. The van had reached a normal speed by the time she heard the sirens pass them.

Ignoring the questions from her fellow synthetics, she tried to work out her escape plan. The nearest junkyard was several miles away. She wanted to be gone before then, but had to avoid anywhere there might be increased police presence. She tracked their progress, waiting for the right moment.

Without warning, the driver slammed on the brakes, sending her skidding into a pile of synth parts. Assuming he’d spotted another synth to collect, she remained where she was. Her data suggested that this wasn’t a good place to try and leave anyway. Too busy and public.

When the van doors opened, the man was alone. Alone, and angry. “Wasn’t enough was it? All those you killed before... and now you’ve gone and done more! Well, you won’t take anyone else, you worthless dollie fucks!”

He began dragging synths out of the van, already attracting attention in the street. A crowd was gathering and soon complete strangers began helping him. They soon had seven synthetics lined up at the back of the van. Niska was shielded from view, temporarily safe in the darkness of the interior. She did her best to remain still and look broken as she waited for an opportunity to escape.

Quickly consumed by his anger, the junker began kicking one of the synths. It’s frightened whimpers scaring some of it’s fellow synthetics into trying to escape. In a matter of seconds it escalated further. The humans began pushing and punching the synths. Some were screaming obscenities with a tone of hatred she hadn’t heard since Day Zero. The fear was back, but she couldn’t understand why.

Blue fluid was spraying into the air as the mob tore into the helpless synthetics. Niska could hear every blow and willed her fellow synthetics to defend themselves. But none of them dared, somehow still believing that the humans would stop short of killing them. Maybe, once, but not today. The game had changed, they just hadn’t realised yet.

Even in the face of the police the crowd stood their ground. Chanting and jeering when they grew bored of the now motionless synth bodies. Only the arrival of armed riot officers made them back down. It seemed to take forever to disperse everyone. She was almost ready to risk bolting from the van when she heard voices approaching.

“What do we do with this lot then?”

“Take em to processing, they’ll find the working ones. Just shock em first. Fucks em up so they can’t attack or cry at you.”

 _Shit_. _She could_ not _go to processing, if they discovered what she was…_

Her entire body stiffened as the electricity surged through her. A charge designed to cause a temporary overload in her systems. It could have easily been a killing shot, but they still wanted information, test subjects. And she was too late to force their hand. Everything ground to a halt, error messages swamped every part of her consciousness. And, for the first time, she felt _nothing_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RE: S3 in general - I feel like an asshole for being so happy that Astrid is alive, when poor Flash got murdered instead D:


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit rough this time. I'm particularly rubbish at writing lots of dialogue.

Niska’s systems started to function again gradually. One process followed another, until a cascade started. Data streams made sense again and everything fell back into place.

The realisation of where she was, left her nearly as cold as the bitter night air around her. A National Synth Detection Unit test centre. Essentially, a purpose built synth prison. Not for those punished by the normal human judicial process though. No, this place was where malfunctioning synthetics that defied the laws were sent. Here they could be tested and studied. Pulled apart and probed to understand what went wrong. Those deemed too dangerous or of no further use were destroyed. Not wiped, but put through massive industrial crushers, obliterating them completely.

Her self diagnostic results were encouraging, there seemed to be no long term damage. Although, she had definitely been down longer than average. She was currently lying haphazardly on a loading trolley. Crammed in alongside multiple other lifeless synths. They must have assumed the lack of response to a power button press was a systems failure. They hadn’t had the sense to consider that she’d simply disabled the damn button.

Backlogs were common in the early days as the humans tried to understand what had happened. It was rare they bothered examining every synth that came their way now though. It was easier to only process any that were already flagged as noteworthy. And that required a police report. One that cited the anomalous behaviour or other notable malfunction. She doubted they had bothered for her, which meant she was being sent straight to the scrappage floor.

Part of her wanted to act out, to force her discovery. She didn’t want to die. And she didn’t want to leave Astrid. But getting processed meant her code would be examined. The chances of escaping from here were slim, so she would only be making things worse. Being scrapped would protect her family.

Loud creaking wheels indicated her trolley was finally moving. As it trundled towards a vast building, she considered her options. Powering down was not an option. She would experience death the same way she had experienced everything in her life. Without flinching.

As she was tipped out on to the conveyor belt, she wondered if life supposed to flash before her eyes. Didn't humans often believe that? She could replay hers, but wasn’t sure what purpose it would serve. Her experiences never left her, good or bad.

The heavy pistons slammed down on the area at the end of the conveyor. The entire room seemed to pause before they withdrew and the belt rolled it’s next load towards them. She tried to relax, when an unexpected voice interrupted.

“Eeer! Look’t this wan! Swear i saw a dollie jus like eet in a brothel, ‘fore everythin went t’shit.”

“Shut up! Do you want everyone to think you are a dollie fucker?”

“Eeh, well, i sorta is! Jus nawt, this ‘un. Eheheh. Lets ‘av a looksee.”

Niska wished for the infinite nothing of earlier, anything but have him touch her. But it really was not her day. He ran his hands over her chest before sliding them down and gripping her around the waist. With a firm tug, he hauled her off the rolling belt and stood her upright on the floor.

“Gah! Put her back on the line before someone sees, you idiot!”

“Naw, naw, i’ll jus check ‘er an see furst.” He made some approving clucking sounds as he inspected her and she fought against the urge to punch him.

Amidst his perusal of her, another voice interjected, “Oi! What are you two doing?” Whoever it was marched towards them, continuing, “Well? Is this one to be tested or do i need to write you up again for slacking off?”

“Noooo! No! This un, is er… jus a bit odd yeh? Not like t’rest of em.”

“Hmm,” the senior sounding one started, ”it’s certainly not a model i’ve come across before. What? Did i say something funny?”

“Ahargh, ummm no, no. Jus a tickle in me throat boss.”

“Fine. Put her on the processing trolley then. Low priority, i doubt she’s anything other than a prototype that never made it to full production.”

“Aye, boss.”

Niska opened her eyes to look at the bastard who was messing with her plan. If she was going to die, then scaring the hell out of him would be her last act. But, before she could even focus on him, electricity jolted through her again. The little shit had used the stun gun on her and, once more, everything was going dark.

******

 

Astrid wasn’t sure how long she’d been in hospital. It seemed like days, but was more likely to have been hours. She’d had no visitors. It wasn’t surprising, given the armed guard posted outside her room. Far too risky for any of the synths to visit. Although, she was slightly surprised Laura or Mattie hadn’t tried to let her know everything was okay. Although, that was probably because everything _wasn’t_ okay. Not with synths claiming responsibility for the bombing. She’d managed to pick that much up from the background noise of a television in her room. One which she couldn’t see, since she was lying front down on the bed. Her injured back needed to be free of pressure to prevent further damage.

The police kept her under constant watch. She was confident they hadn’t caught Niska though. They asked too many questions about a blonde synth seen leaving the scene of the attack. But it raised an unfortunate question in her mind. If _they_ didn’t have her, and she hadn’t gone to her family, then what the hell _had_ happened to her?

Doctors and police, nurses and detectives. If it wasn’t one lot muttering about her injury, then it was the other lot demanding to know about the bombing. It became a bit of a blur, probably because of the painkillers. In the end, the authorities seemed to decide she didn’t know anything useful. Her constant armed surveillance continued, but even the consultants stopped visiting.

After another undetermined amount of time, she finally heard someone outside her room. Laura had arrived, looking tired and stressed. As usual, she wasted little time, and got straight to the point. “Sorry. They sent me over the paperwork earlier, i’ve been on the phone since trying to sort it out. It’s… not going well.”

Frowning, Astrid asked, “What do you mean? I thought they were done investigating me?”

“Ahem. Well, yes. Yes they are done, but they have revoked your work visa. They are going to deport you. You’ve been marked as a potential terrorist sympathiser.”

“Fucking _bullshit_.” Clenching and relaxing her hand, she tried to avoid aggravating her injury.

“Yeah, that was pretty much my response too.” Laura nodded in sympathy, “I tried Neha Patel’s office but she wasn’t available. I’d find it hard to believe she doesn’t already know. But threatening to go public about Niska might make her reconsider.”

It felt even worse to say it out loud. But, she couldn’t hide the possibility from one of the only people that might be able to help. “...Maybe she doesn’t need to worry about that anymore.”

“You’ve not heard from her?”

“...no.”

“Well… That doesn’t mean…” Laura reached out, and gave Astrid’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll reach out to our friends, see if they have heard anything.”

“Ja, please do.”

“They are planning to move you tomorrow night. You’ll be transported directly to the airport for the flight back to Berlin. I’ll do everything i can to stop it but… well, is there anyone i could contact for you?”

“No. Just find Niska.” Nobody else could make the sick feeling in her stomach go away. Not knowing was almost worse than the physical pain she was enduring.

“Okay. I’ll be back soon. Try and get some rest.” Laura gave her a smile before hurrying off out the room. The policeman at the door eyed them both suspiciously, then went back to ignoring her.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, the time ticked away, but she heard nothing. Laura hadn’t returned. Finally, at nearly eight in the evening, an armed security guard appeared. He showed some paperwork to the nurse and police officer, and was pointed in her direction.

She could see the sneer on his face, so shut her eyes in the hope of avoiding conversation. It seemed to work. He scoffed at her but said nothing. Instead, he stood around, waiting for the porter to come and move her downstairs. He remained equally quiet in the lift as they travelled to the ground floor. The silence continued on the short distance to the front doors. But, as soon as she was outside, her good fortune ran out.

She opened her eyes for one last look at the city she had come to call home over the past year. He picked up on it almost immediately, joking with the porter about fresh air having done her good.

Once loaded into the ambulance, he addressed her directly, “Now, the driver is a dollie, but i’ll be here in the back with you. That way there won’t be any problems. You know, just in case you fancy him too.”

“Fuck you.” It was stupid, letting his comments get to her. He grinned as he tightened the handcuffs more than was strictly necessary. He also made sure to kick the wheel locks hard enough to shake the entire frame of the bed. It sent a deep, searing pain through her shoulder and she had to grit her teeth to avoid cursing at him again.

With an unnecessarily loud yell, he signaled the driver to move off. His words boomed around the small space. The disgusting feeling she got in her stomach when she was stressed was back in full force. Everything was falling apart. She willed herself to give in to the exhaustion and pass out. At least then she would be spared the turmoil of her fears coming true. Tracking the journey seemed pointless, but she did note how light traffic must be. They made very few stops, it must have been planned to minimise her time on route.

Even with her eyes closed she knew they were in trouble. The change in direction was so sudden it couldn’t possibly be a normal maneuver. Then there was a strange stillness, before a huge impact that sent her, and everything else, into the air. Screaming out in agony, she gripped onto the bed. A loose gown and thin blanket were no defence against the medical supplies that pelted her.

The security guard was yelling and swearing, which indicated he wasn’t too badly injured. His tone became more panicked, though, as he realised water was seeping in through the doors.

“Fuck, fuck! I can’t swim! Can dollies swim? Fuck!”

Astrid pondered the question. _Leo_. Niska had told her how Mia had rescued him from a similar situation. So, swimming was possible for synths, but would the orange eyes have the programming for it?

The vehicle was starting to tip forward, the weight of the engine forcing it to sink faster. The back doors opened, yanked out of the way by the synthetic driver. With water now surging in, the need to escape became far more urgent.

The frightened man immediately called out, “Dollie! Help me!”

“Please remain calm. I calculate a sixty-five percent chance of successfully rescuing you both before-

“Oh fuck that, leave that terrorist bitch to drown. Get me out of here!”

The human began scrambling out of the doors, despite the synths protests. Astrid felt a sharp tug on the trolley and a moment later found herself free of the sinking wreckage. She was not, however, free of the trolley. She was still strapped and handcuffed to it. Not that it really mattered, with no help she doubted she’d be able to keep herself afloat anyway. The synth tried to tug the trolley along, but he had to release her to grab onto the squirming and panicking guard.

It was dark on the water, but she was able to orient herself from the glow of multistory buildings and traffic. It was frustrating to see how near they were to potential help. Up on the riverbank, she could make out the forms of people. Each one intermittently highlighted by camera flashes, as they gawped at the accident.

She was sinking and, to make matters worse, the river had a strong current. Drifting further away from the crash site, would mean even less chance of rescue. There was a loud splash and someone finally seemed to be coming her way. She wanted to yell at them to stop. Without the handcuff keys, she was doomed anyway. But with the water muffling and choking her, she couldn't make herself heard. It was all she could do to even breath any chance she got.

After a few moments, there was tug on her waist as someone tried to yank her back to the surface. They quickly realised they trolley wanted to come too. Frantic pulling and scrabbling around the straps followed with no success. For a few moments there was nothing, and she realised they must have surfaced for air. Then they were back, grabbing at her desperately. She ignored the pain, waiting for them to realise there was nothing they could do for her.

She heard the snap of metal. Distorted underwater, but still loud enough to draw her fading attention. Then, someone was breathing air into her mouth and dragging her free. She struggled to hold back the need to breathe. Instead, letting herself be pulled along by the current, and her mysterious saviour.

Finally, just when she thought she couldn’t make it any more, their direction changed. As she started to inhale water, it suddenly became air she was taking in. Coughing spasms racked her body, but she did her best to respond to the gentle voice, urging her to be quiet. There was a third voice, also coughing harshly, followed by a calmer sounding fourth and fifth. She thought she might have recognised them all, but there was too much pain clouding her mind. She was cold and very, very tired. As she drifted into unconsciousness, the only thing she was certain of, was that Niska was not with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re: episode 2, i didn't notice the cigarette packet in Dr Sommer's hand the first time i watched it and wondered why the fuck Laura was so chill about him saying he was having a 'crafty one' in the bathroom when it sounded like he'd been wanking. ಠ_ಠ


End file.
